Oriah Mountain Dreamer

she's a writer. amazing words. philosophical thoughts. i rediscovered her once more as i browsed through my Facebook account. a friend of mine posted a note about her. curiosity took the better of me and i, without hesitation, clicked on the link. what happened next is what i call a "literary epiphany". now i know why ate kathy's been pushing me to read her, just as she was pushing me to read coelho.

I think in Oriah I have found yet another artistic idol. the way she streams her thoughts to create rivers whose depths are so full of meaning and vitality. such depth i'm itching to swim in. the maturity in her writing, that is intersected with profound thoughts without being too philosophic is the writing style i want to emulate. to graduate from this intermediary form, into something with more weight and worth.

before writing this, I emailed the "note" i saw to M. because it reminded me so much of him. and sometimes of our relationship. we've progressed somewhat in our tandem from the honeymoon stage into something more fulfilling. in my part i've let go of the masks, the faces i have to show the general public, and instead have chosen to reveal who i am: ugly or pretty. we fight often these days. perhaps proof of our transitory move to another plateau. you relationship experts out there tell me. despite how our fights often scare me into remembering an ugly pasts, it rejuvenates me into realizing that it's a growth process. a characteristic that i'm developing into something else-- something different. this is what a relationship should be right? things havent changed so much that when i put my hand into his it still feels like a perfect fit, and when our lips meet i still fell the tingles. small things, small feelings in a bigger plane, a bigger space continuum.

here finally is the poem. sorry for the side tracked story telling.

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life's betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
"Yes."

It doesn't interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.

** From The Invitation